


Blood on my tongue

by inkedauthority



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Evil Queen - Freeform, F/F, OUAT - Freeform, Regina Mills - Freeform, Smut, Split Queen, mayor queen, regina x regina, romantic mayor queen, s6 au, season 6 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedauthority/pseuds/inkedauthority
Summary: There’s voices still in Regina’s head, one that fuels her vanity and makes her want selfish things, makes her want the queen in sick and twisted ways. Perhaps she’s the villain of this story, not the evil queen, not when the dramatically dressed woman resists more than she does, and uses such knowledge to her advantage in torturous ways.





	

**A/N:** This was sort of based on a gifset I made, and then the ideas sort of rolled in and I had to write it. You can view the gifset here: http://www.inkedauthority.tumblr.com/post/156884970859

 **Warnings:** Mentions of light masochism, emphasis on choking and an allusion to whipping.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters, only the plot and writing. Unbeta'd all mistakes are mine.

Italics are thoughts in Regina's head, responses are demarcated with (dash) - before the text

* * *

The hard press of the wooden table makes Regina squirm, fear lacing her features as the monster she unleashed rounds on her, lips curling into a snarl, fingers gripping tightly around her throat. So possessive, so stubborn, so beautifully made that Regina's breath quickens in response, pupils dilate in appreciation for the pain she has always craved.

"You deserve this" The hiss is nothing but a whisper of air near her ear, nails leaving indents in Regina's neck, marking her without restraint, without protest from her pale lips free of the red wiped away by constant worrying of her tongue on her lower lip.

_You want this_

Of course she does, she has always wanted this, and now that it's manifested, free to roam, Regina has done nothing but resist with feeble attempts to keep the queen at arms length from her; when all she desires are those crimson lips against her own.

_You're sick_

Twisted, murderously delicious, oh yes. "I don't deserve anything" Regina sneers back, the low timbre of her voice betraying the obvious arousal, the sickening feeling of ultimate narcissism that creeps like a vine up her legs and wraps around her middle to tug _, tug_ with promise further back into the edge of her desk, provide pain mixed with the pleasure of an idea that hasn't yet taken form.

"I did everything for you, and you tried to _kill_ me" The waver in the queen's voice is all too telling, but before Regina can latch onto it, drag it out from under its resting place, the vulnerability is gone, replaced by an all too familiar rage that makes her groan, makes her eyes flutter closed against the safety such anger represents.

"I wanted to be accepted" Regina retorts, voice nothing more than a whisper now, fingers curling around a wrist, hips pushing up from the desk to relieve herself of the pressure of the hard wood. "You made me think things, horrible things"

"That was all you, dear" and its so true, all so true that Regina looks down in shame, feels the fire between her legs heighten at the thought that its so very forbidden, so wrong. Who in their right mind loves themselves so much? Who values their face, their shapely form enough to want to be touched by their own hands?

There's something wrong with her, she knows as much, but there's no help coming around the corner, no support to hold her back when she pushes forward against the queen, eyes darting from shadowed chocolate hues down to crimson lips, the colour so red Regina wonders if she would taste blood on her tongue if she has to kiss them.

_She's yours_

And the voices are still there, the need that has always been held back, masked by anger no longer an anchor. Now her desires are free, open and wanting, _wanting_ like never before. "That wasn't all me. It wasn't always me…" a jerk forward, eyes focused on those lips, that scar she wants to run her tongue across, but the hand on her throat stops her, a frown pulling the queen's eyebrows together in contemplation.

_Even she knows you're insane_

-Does she?

She should, shouldn't she? After all they were the same person, now split in two, halves of a whole with missing pieces, and Regina wants nothing more than to fill those empty spaces with the pleasure of the queen.

Slowly, cautiously, the hand moves from her throat, tracing a path down to her chest, over the buttons on her shirt straining for reprieve. Regina watches the hand, the expressions on her other half's face as she tracks her way down, sees the conflict of wanting to inflict pain, of wanting to love and worship in ways she knows the queen capable.

Whatever the woman chooses, Regina doesn't get to know, their tragic conversation ending with the sound of a door banging a few paces down.

(x)(x)(x)

She can't sleep.

_You're thinking of her aren't you?_

She is, she thinks of her long hair, her smooth skin, the way her eyes light up when they come face to face, as if everything will be right in the world again, only they don't, they get **worse**.

It's so easy then to think otherwise, to let her hand trace the same line the queen had a few days before, imagine her face as she watched her own fingers duck and dive over the curves of Regina's chest. It had left a thrill run down Regina's spine at the time, and now the feeling only intensifies as she touches herself in the same way, claiming what the queen had taken without even knowing.

The queen is hers, has always been, and will continue to be hers as long as she lives. There isn't any doubt as to that, and those holding her other half hostage will have hell to pay, she will watch them burn with their cries of mercy fuelling the fire raging between her legs, the one she quells with her own fingers.

Hips move in a rhythm created by unconscious actions, soft sounds falling from her lips as she thinks, thinks of the ways in which she would have her other half; strap her to the bed, take away her pride, whip her until she's red… _oh yes, oh god yes_ …

Hers. Always hers, and let anyone be damned if they think otherwise.

(x)(x)(x)

The sickness comes quickly, her magic eating away at her soul once she's done, satisfied at the damage she's caused. _For Henry_ , she tells herself, watching the apple tree burn, smoke curling around her to rise up to the sky, her prayers and wishes going with them.

If there's a God, let them hear her sick pleas, let them judge her for wanting her own self in ways that should make her son abhor her.

_But you want her too much_

Yes, yes! She wants her, craves her sweet skin, crimson lips that taste like blood, and iron in her veins that should bleed only for her. She wants tight embraces that crush bones and teasing nips that leave bloody marks behind. She wants pain and pleasure, she wants her other half back, because boy does it hurt being only one of a whole.

"I loved that tree"

_I love you_

"Then say your goodbyes" She doesn't dare look at the queen, keeps repeating over and over again that its for Henry, that he never liked it anyways, not because a red flag such as this would bring the queen to her doorstep again, would allow her perverse gaze to feast upon flesh bared for the public whose eyes she only wishes to gouge out.

"You're being childish! Foolish in your actions! This-" A tug on her arm, a painful bruise left behind "this is why you needed me, and now that I'm free? You can suffer this all on your own"

_You lie, such a dirty little liar. You need me too._

"I want nothing to do with you! You ruined lives! You're a villain!" Because she's meant to be the hero, to be good like mother always wanted, like Snow now wants, like Emma expects from her in order to have a sliver of time with her son. It isn't too much to give up, is it? She can do it, she can stop her eyes from drawing itself to red, red lips and throw aside her ideas of a love that will never come to fruition.

_No you can't_

-No I can't.

"Keep harping the same song, Regina. You're pathetic, **weak** " Eyes on her form, drawing circles around her body, connecting dots and adding numbers. Oh how loved she feels, how special that such eyes are on her, its certainly better than a mirror, better than the voice in her head telling her to charge forward, slice through heads and then bask in the afterglow of red liquid.

"I'm stronger than you think I am. Don't underestimate me, _dear_ "She gets too close, can smell the metallic sting of crimson on plump lips, ones who lie, who snarl and form the most hurtful words. She gets too close and then tastes blood, tastes it on her tongue, down her neck, back on fire against the burning tree, but her hands are threading through long hair, back arching into a touch that scorches through her soul, and oh, she has never felt this complete.

She has never been a hero, no part of her has ever been good, but _every_ part of her strives for perfection, and nothing is more perfect than herself, than her alluring looks that make everyone weak in the knees.

A plume of purple smoke, healing hands upon her back as they stumble through the stone walled vault, lips locked in a passionate embrace.

_Kiss me, touch me, make me yours_

Nothing but a gasp leaves Regina's lips as she's left, empty, cold, a pair of too dark eyes staring her down, asking question after question she can't answer, not when she's like this, not when there's blood on her tongue, crimson staining her lips, she can't… she won't… she simply doesn't have the answers.

_I want you. You're enough. We can be happy._

(x)(x)(x)

Alone in her bed, hands over her face, knees drawn up to her chest, Regina cries; stifling sobs that shake the mattress and make her nose run. She's had enough, seen the look of disgust on her other half's face that left her lonely when she disappeared, purple assaulting her vision.

It's been too long since then, and Regina's been as strong as she could. She's a hero, a good girl that's defeated each and every one of the queen's plans since then, done everything right, but why then does it feel so wrong?

It isn't to say that time spent with her son, having friends who greet her when she walks past isn't great, isn't what she's always wanted, but-

 _You want_ _**her** _

Yes. _Her_ , she wants her, she's always wanted her, and now it haunts her soul, makes her chest ache with a longing she can only channel into pain and pleasure that mingle for an addictive feeling, one she's so very acquainted with.

"Pathetic"

Its that word which has her jump in fear, eyes wet and red, falling on those crimson lips that come startlingly close, fingers hovering just so, just close enough to hesitatingly tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

Its too tender, too gentle not to mean something else, but before she can ask, before she can interrogate and resist, there's lips on her own, kissing, taking, claiming as they had done so boldly before, but now she's pushed back, those fingers moving down until they trace a familiar pattern, stop above her navel as if waiting for something more, something extraordinary Regina knows she can't give.

"I want you" The queen whispers, red, so frustratingly red lips whisper, blood on Regina's tongue from biting her own so hard.

_I want you too, I want you so much it hurts_

"I want to hurt you, take you, make you mine. Why did you put these thoughts in my head?!" There's a pressure on Regina's throat, their positions so similar to the first time, one that has her arch her back further up into the weight pressed against her, restricting her movements from doing more than lamely struggling against the binds.

" _You're_ the villain" The queen continues, and perhaps Regina is, she notes, perhaps she's the one with the murderous thoughts in her head, the narcissistic thread that connects to something dark. The queen is more than right, she realises, accepting the kisses, responding in kind, giving more than she takes, because the queen deserves this, deserves to feel as sickened as she does, deserves as much **pain.**

It isn't hard, not when the only thing covering her modesty is a flimsy silk nightgown, one pushed up, given no thought as fingers cup the space between her legs, teasing and going too fast at once. Oh how she drives her mad!

"Say it"

_Say what?_

"Silence won't help you, dear"

_Silence keeps everything to myself, keeps the words from tainting my image, keeps you a villain, keeps me tethered on the edge of guilt-free. As long as I resist, as long as I say I tried-_

"I want you" Regina says, betraying herself, breaking her own heroic aesthetic further down until she's nothing more than a lust induced haze of a mess.

One finger, sly and cunning slides past her defences, presses against her naked skin inside. It isn't enough, it's never enough- she wants **more.**

"You have to say it, Regina" There's still that hand on her throat, a body on her own, and hot breath on her lips. She's too close, yet not close enough, and all Regina wants to do is cry and scream out to the heavens that hadn't answered her prayers. She wants the queen inside, back where she belongs, not like this… what has she been thinking? She's no hero, no good girl, no nothing more than a broken half.

"I…" It's so hard to get out, but the start, the beginning has that finger move, has her gasp against the lips that taste like blood against her own.

Eyes close, breath quickens, and the lame thought that perhaps if everything is dark, doesn't exist outside her closed eyelids, that the confession will be easier, that the words won't astound, won't confuse and riddle the woman tasting her neck, making her shiver and gasp against the heavy dress draping over her legs.

"I love you"

Two fingers, a thumb on her pearl, and a bruising kiss for a reward, Regina wonders whether those words hadn't been so surprising after all, whether the rocking of their hips against each other, the slow movements of the queen's fingers, swipe of a tongue across her palette is all planned.

It's too in sync not to be, it's too perfect, too symmetrical.

_You'll ruin it_

She will, but not now, not when those fingers are pulling strangled sounds from her lips in earnest, causing a smug smirk to form on the queen's mouth, one that moves lower, worships her chest, takes its time to push aside silk and lave with affection a hardened peak.

She's so careful, so gentle, that Regina squirms, and the queen, the all knowing queen tightens her grip on Regina's throat, speeds up the pace of her fingers in slight irritation as she goes back to work, mouth moving to the next mound, leaving marks of her existence upon fair skin meant to be whipped and bloodied with love.

It's so twisted that Regina wonders if this isn't a dream, if the still wet lines of salted tears upon her cheeks now freshly made are for something else entirely. It can't be for the queen, can't be for her when all she does is antagonise and cause pain, but it is, it's always for her.

"I love you too"

She thinks it's too soft to hear, too muffled against the plane of Regina's stomach, but the words echo in the empty room, one dark, shadowing their deeds with the cloak of ignorance, one that promises secrets to be kept.

They revel in the shared connection, the thing that's only theirs, but just as lips replace the queen's thumb, just as Regina arches off the bed, hand threading through thick curls and loosening the put together appearance of the monarch, there's purple smoke and she's gone.

(x)(x)(x)

If frustration were to be a person, then Regina's the model candidate.

It's been three days, and somehow attempts at relieving herself from the queen's touch has done nothing but make her skin hotter. She knows its magic, knows that when fingers heightened her pleasure and a mouth tortured her desires, there had been the ultimate revenge placed on her soul.

_But you don't mind_

No, no she doesn't, not really, not when she knows only the queen's touch will lift the spell, and such a touch will admit defeat, will have the queen surrender to those three words that had been whispered across her skin.

She gets asked once, twice, whether she's okay, whether her sour mood has something to do with the queen, and she answers honestly, truthfully, because that's what heroes do don't they?

 _Yes_ , she says, nods her head like an obedient dog for Emma and Snow; _I'm not feeling well._

She's excused like a child to go home, to unlock her door and lean against the wooden frame, a groan pulling itself from her lips in agony. She needs the queen, needs her so much that _want_ is too lame a word to use in such a dire circumstance.

It has to be revenge for something, that's how the queen works, but with the fire in her belly and no blood in her head, all Regina can do is desperately claw at her clothes in some attempt to cool her heated skin.

"Now that's a view I like"

Turning with rage in her eyes, fury prickling along her shoulder blades, Regina stomps forward; and now she's the one with her fingers on the queen's neck, her lips hovering over a jewelled ear in warning.

How the roles have reversed, how the world has turned on its head for her to feel this way, to feel like a caged bird struggling to be let free. She's felt this way once, under Leopold's rule, his appraising eyes that sought too much from her, and in that desperation the evil queen had been born.

_Is that what she wants to teach you?_

"You're sick! Take this magic off me now!" And still she resists, because there's good in her, so little good combating the darkness swirling around her heart, urging her to press against the queen with her shirt hanging off just to feel close to the monarch.

She does, she lets her lips wander down, lets it bite on a neck in warning, lets her tongue taste blood.

"You don't need me yet, you haven't been broken"

_I'm broken, I'm so broken you would prick your finger on my sharpened edge_

"You sound like mother, and she got killed in the end, don't think that fate isn't too far off for you"

"Oh yes, because you're a martyr, how could I forget?" The words are all humourlessly delivered, but the scratch of nails down Regina's back, the sharp sting of reality is encouraging on its own.

She continues then, kisses and bites until there's marks lining the queen's neck, marking her for only the mayor; the way it should be.

"If it means killing you, I'll do it"

_No, you won't_

-No, I won't

"No. You **won't** " and it's as if the voices in her head have an echo, as if the queen knows, as if the kisses trailing down her exposed chest are not what gives it away.

There's a grip in her hair, one that pulls her up, pulls her taller than she can stand until lips claim her own, crimson against pale pink, mingling, mixing until there's no way to tell them apart.

 _You won't too_ , Regina thinks, because there are so many ways to hurt each other, but they choose this.

(x)(x)(x)

She finally gets sleep that night after the queen does another disappearing act, leaving her to bump into the wall with the sudden shift, causing a small bruise to form on her forehead, but all that only serves to make her angrier.

She knows what the queen is doing now, knows that she wants to feel needed, to be loved in ways that Regina can't help but feel she's too damaged for, but when a weight shifts in the bed, sheets lifted up and then dropped down again, the mayor doesn't protest, doesn't jump anymore, just allows the silent body to curl around her back like they've been doing this for years.

"This is wrong" She hears, voice whispering in the night.

"I know" Because why pretend she's asleep when the queen already knows, why do anything more than give into the vice of being a twisted half?

There's silence for a few beats, an arm snaking around her middle and stroking her stomach, lips pressed to the back of her neck in what she can only assume is an apology.

The heat still remains in her bones, although this time, any lingering spell is not the cause.

"I don't know who I am without you" It's as if the words from the queen's lips speak volumes of truth she's tried to hide since her arrival.

A shift in the bed and Regina turns, her eyes wide and seeing, taking in the inky tendrils of hair decorating her pillow, the soft silk of a nightgown pressing against her own, the way brown eyes look at her with pleading empathy, and those crimson lips pursed in thought.

Its instinct that has her lurch forward, claim those red lips against her own, taste blood on her tongue once it slips inside the cavern of the queen's mouth. For once, she's on top, hands divesting the other woman of her clothing, pushing aside underwear to cup a heated core. She doesn't dare waste time, doesn't give the queen time to leave, to think about the consequences of such actions they haven't completed.

"Let me" She insists, the mayor kissing away tears that gather at the corner of the queen's eyes "let me love you"

There's no longer a spell to make her desperate, no longer a need that drives them together, this is just them, the voices in her head, and the queen nodding her consent as her lips descend down an immaculate body.

"How can you love me?" The whisper makes Regina pause, stills her fingers as it travels down over smooth buttery skin. How can she love the queen? How can she accept the woman after all she's done, all the horrible things she's tried to rid herself of since the very beginning?

She doesn't know, doesn't have the answers, even if the truth is far from pretty to voice.

The stirrings of magic begin to pull the queen's form from her, Regina scrambling to tug the woman close, have her nearby even if the hesitance in her silence says all she needs for the queen to have her answer.

"You can't keep running away from me" Regina hisses, grip claw-like as she pushes the queen down further into the mattress "You can't run from me no matter where you go. I am in here" a touch to the queen's naked chest, palm over her heart, and for a moment she swears the queen flinches, readies herself for round two of crushing the organ, but Regina continues on "and here" up her fingers go, over a collar bone and sliding across a neck, ghosting along lips and cheeks, her fingers pressing into a forehead. Because no matter what, they live within each other, and to be separated like this was nothing short of tragic.

"You don't love me, you only _think_ you do"

"Isn't this enough?" The physical evidence, the fact that she's pressed against the queen, the other brunette almost surrendering to her touch should be more than enough proof to dispute such a statement, to show how much they ache for each other.

"Its never enough for us, you know this by now" fingers in her hair, a hand sliding down her back to grip at her upper thigh. "We always want more"

"Then take it… I'm not stopping your inner search for happiness. In fact, you're free from me aren't you? No longer an anchor to hold you down" If the queen tastes bitterness, then she responds to it in kind, her hand using its leverage to flip them over, her thigh slotting between Regina's.

"Don't take such a tone with me. You know better than to anger me" The voice so dangerous and low causes Regina to hum, hips pushing off the bed to desperately seek friction from the woman on top of her.

_Make her angrier_

-I'm scared

 _You want her to hurt you… it will feel so_ _**good** _

-I want to be good, be good for **her**

She's always been good for her, always been such an obedient little thing that the sudden shift surprises her. There's a grip on her neck as her lips crash into the queen's, the desperate desire pulsing through them as her fingers scratch down the queen's naked back, causing the woman to moan out her own pleasure at the bold move which has her push Regina back harshly.

"You're simply begging to be hurt aren't you?"

"You know me better than anyone then"

A wicked smile blooms on the queen's face, Regina's clothes gone with a flick of her wrist and their naked bodies finally slotting together like two puzzle pieces lost within a vast box.

There's no time for Regina to speak, to demand the queen's voice in her ear when that mouth moves so quickly, moves down her throat and over her chest, engulfing a nipple and teasing the other with a pincer grip. The pain is delicious, and Regina only moans softly in response, legs wrapping around the queen's torso to bring her impossibly closer

"Do you love me?" And she swears the queen has asked this question before, or had she confessed? Regina can't tell memory from dream when fingers dance over her folds, running along the slick wetness found there.

"I hate you" She answers, causing the other woman to laugh, her fingers dipping inside her warm cave to elicit a gasp from the mayor's mouth.

"No you don't"

"No I don't" Regina responds, the dialogue so very similar to the ones in her head, the voices silent now that the queen is near, a woman made to protect her from them even when all she has is madness in a drowning boat.

The quick confession, the rectification of such a harsh declaration has Regina rewarded with a body sliding down hers, a mouth kissing its way over her sweaty skin and worshiping sensitive areas that have her groan in appreciation.

Fingers move quickly, shallowly inside her, and Regina responds with jerking hips and clenched fists in tossed aside sheets that do nothing but decorate the vast expanse of a bed now housing her spread legs and the cruel woman between them. There's a tongue over her folds, and breath mingling with the queen's own moans against her heated skin. It drives her insane, has her voice hoarse and legs clench together seeking more than what's given.

Her eyes slip closed, bursts of colour threatening to filter through the darkness when the queen's grunts of pleasure from her taste alone has her arch her back, the edge of pleasure so very close.

The feeling is gone in a moment, of course. The queen never so generous as to let people enjoy things when she could torture them instead. It takes her two seconds to recover from the splash of cold denial on her skin to leap from her spot on the bed, fingers curling around the wrist of the queen before that grin on her other half's face leaves her unsated in the dead of the night.

"I'm not done with you" Regina growls, tugging the monarch closer, harshly enough to have the dramatic woman topple forward on the bed, her grip moving from arm to torso as her body presses against the sweat slicked back of her other half.

She's choking this villainous version of herself, blaming her for the bad things that had transpired in her presence, and then rewarding her still when slick fingers travel down the length of the queen's stomach to plunge without warning into a warm cave of sticky heat. Looks like she wasn't the only one craving to be touched, now was she?

"Take your hands off me" The queen hisses, hips moving in tandem with Regina's hand, chasing pleasure despite her words "I'll end you if you continue this tirade of _love_ …. This is nothing more than some sick twisted fantasy and you know it"

"Your words may be bitter, your majesty" The mayor whispers, teeth sinking into skin to taste blood on her tongue, hips pushing against the body pressed to hers to provide a better force for her fingers "But your body betrays you"

They're naked and panting, moving together like animals in heat, yet they still deny each other, still hate each other despite the confession of love time itself had witnessed. What's the point of hiding now? What's the point of faking control when they are certainly not in their senses to recognise the blatant need they have for each other?

The queen desires love, and Regina desires acceptance; its two very different things that somehow work with their narcissistic idea of vanity presented in a prettily wrapped form of sexual tension; and its what drives them ultimately, its what causes the queen to shift, to turn and face her good half that holds more darkness than her, thigh pushing its way between Regina's to have their cores collide with a delicious friction they both groan at.

It's Regina that moves, the one who grabs at the queen's hands to pin them at the side of her head and rut against the queen, her back and hips moving with a desperation that the monarch only laughs giddily at.

This is what she wanted to see, this _need_ , this instinct to belong to her finally playing out in a way that will have Regina surrender completely. There's too many moments of vulnerability, even for the queen, but she takes it with open arms, pushes up to kiss Regina when they both reach the stage of pleasurable numbness that promises a crescendo of an intoxicated high.

It comes finally, the mayor gritting her teeth and pushing on despite the need to release, the woman beneath her far too smug not to cross over the rickety bridge of weakness first. She achieves it with only a second between them, the monarch's back bending, mouth open and wrist twisting in the mayor's hold to grab onto something, to anchor herself against the crashing wave of pleasure that has the room ring with her moans, against a loud gasp from her lips that topples Regina over the edge, because by God its all for her, and for such a hearty praise, the queen deserves a bite to her lip, and a groan as Regina stiffens with the weight of her orgasm.

If the queen's finish was loud and full of gasping praise, then Regina's is almost silent as her eyes dance across her other half's face, teeth biting into her lower lip to taste blood in her mouth, and hands pinning wrists to the bed moving up until fingers interlace with each other as she collapses with a soft sob.

A wave of guilt washes over her, one suddenly overshadowed by a gentle hand in her hair, one that pulls her closer to a body that feels like home.

There's a soft heartbeat, and the sound of a tender hum that has her calm down enough to reach up just in time to see a mirror of her own face tracked with tears. She doesn't understand it, yet kisses it away all the same, her guilt moved by tears that forces a kiss upon salted lips.

"It didn't work" The queen says, voice barely a whisper as she affectionately brushes her fingers across Regina's cheek, a defeated smile upon her lips as Regina moves back, a slight shake of her head in response to such a naïve approach to an antidote.

"It worked" The mayor insists, pressing her forehead to the queen's her eyes closing and breath soft against the curve of the monarch's chin "You love me now, don't you?" And it's such an inappropriate question to ask after what they had just shared, but the queen understands the sentiment nonetheless, understands the need to be validated even if the attempts for it were all wrong.

"I have always loved you. There hasn't been any doubt" For now Regina believes it, believes that the silent voices in her head are gone, that they won't go back to snarling and snapping in the morning.

It's a blissful place to be, caught between ignorance and the bone crushing hope that promises something worse when they've finally caught up to the reality that not everything is as simple as crimson on the queen's lips, or blood on Regina's tongue.

* * *

A/N: I don't usually write in present tense, or smut for that matter, so your thoughts on this will be appreciated (because lets be real, stuff here needs to be improved.) Your feedback is very much appreciated :)


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